A Shattered Freak
by Incogneeta
Summary: Blackarachnia was destined to eventually make an appearance. Shattered Glass, AU, mixed with a small Transformers Animated plot.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers in any way, shape, or form. I am a mere fan who enjoys writing fanfic.**

**Summary: Blackarachnia was destined to eventually make an appearance. Shattered Glass, AU, mixed with a small Transformers Animated plot. **

**Rating: T**

**A/N: After month's of trying to piece this together, I decided from the benefit-of-the-doubt to just screw my worries of writing this and just upload it. If you are puzzled by Elita's dialect, all is explained after the chapter. :O  
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**Chapter One: Instinct vs. Reason**

The pain. Burning. She moved slowly. The stinging sensation spread through her circuits. Clawing at the ground in front of her, she pulled forward in a pathetic crawl. The pool of oil, oil seeping from her body, became larger and wider with each movement she made; she could feel the last of her energy bleeding away with every drop of oil lost.

Poison was spreading throughout her body. Disgusting organic poison. The wretched creature responsible was watching with its beady eyes; all eight of them continually looking over her. Its long, narrow legs occasionally crept forward in a slow advance as its swollen abdomen repeatedly raised and descended in the air in a quizzical motion as it studied her movements. She scowled as she pulled forward, wincing slightly at the sudden flare of pain but careful to keep the creature in sight. Whatever toxins the giant organic had exposed her to—when she awoke to find it impaling her with two sharp fangs—it was taking its toll.

An idea suddenly struck her. A very risky idea.

When she was younger, just during the beginning of the war, her body had been upgraded to be able to download data of an opponent and temporarily copy their abilities, weaknesses, and strengths with just a single touch. If she could get in reach of the creature, perhaps she could copy enough of its data to build an immunity to its poison, an immunity that could save her circuits. Disgusting as it sounded, and despite the doubts that bothered her, she was too stubborn to allow herself to be offlined by such a pathetic organic. After all, she was Elita-One, one of the Autobots highest ranked fighters...for the femme standards anyway. She didn't earn her position in the Autobots or as the mate of the most feared mech on Cybteron, Optimus Prime, by being cautious. She was violent and strong-willed; that was what it took to survive amongst the sexism, bias, and unwanted attention of hunger-lusted mechs craving female companions.

She suddenly turned to face the creature from her place on the ground and slowly crawled forward. She hoped moving closer would entice its curiosity and encourage it to approach her at a faster pace. At first, it merely blinked and took a small step with one of its front legs.

She grunted and gave a small growl at its reluctance.

"Scared? You should be. I vas caught off guard vhen you got the upper hand," Elita spat out as she inched forward.

The arachnid merely twitched.

"If it had been a fairer fight, heh, you vould have been ripped to shreds," she hissed and glared.

Eventually, her mocking and insults got the creature's attention. As hoped, the creature was lured forward as a small growl seethed out and it became bolder in its next few steps as if to say, "Oh, think so?" It was no different than ignorant Autobot mechs that were so easily provoked by a few words.

Merely feet, then only inches stood in the way between her last chance of leaving…online. The creature was so close now. Just out of her reach. She should have been wary, seeing its cerulean eyes hovering so near and realizing how dangerously long its front fangs were, but it was the only opportunity she would have. Survival outweighed fear. Her hand reached forward, shaking, with scanners ready. In an instant, she swiped at its leg and clamped a fist around it—squeezing so hard that fluids began to seep from the organics limb, and she almost pulled away in disgust. Despite her obvious dismay, she was not foolish enough to waste her only opportunity to live and grudgingly held on.

The arachnid yowled in pain, nearly yanking its damaged leg away from Elita-One. But, she kept her grasp on the limb and was forcefully dragged forward, ignoring the gravel that scraped against her armor.

At first, Elita was worried that the scan would fail to work on the organic creature, panic rising, after waiting for the results that seemed unlikely to happen.

_Scan, scan, scan, scan! _ she thought in fear-tinted rage. If the start-up didn't begin soon, chances were that she would go off-line from the energy loss.

The process of copying seemed difficult to initiate if one did not understand it, but it was inadvertently simple enough if she wasn't distracted or trying to fend off an enemy. It was just a matter of waiting for the processor that controlled her scanning functions to reboot, since she couldn't afford to let it continually run due to its energon consumption; the very irony of the situation didn't make Elita any happier about her predicament.

Elita breathed a sigh of relief when she felt a hum of the internal scanners readying, and impatiently waited for the information to be downloaded and sent to her firewall. Almost immediately, she recoiled in shock as a wave of pain, new, foreign, pain shot through her system; she twisted and writhed on the ground in horror. Optics widening, she realized that something wasn't right. Elita had never felt such convulsions while using her ability before—it felt as if her servos were being repeatedly torn off and her body was being thrown into a smelter. Suddenly, a stinging sensation ran along her backside, in a total of six pin-pointed areas to be precise. A moan escaped from her lips as her grip on the creature loosened. It pulled away.

From a quick glance at it, Elita nearly cursed in realization. The green fluid that was oozing from the organic's leg, the same fluid that her hand had been coated in, had been scanned and was being converted through her system. Because of her haphazard attempt, she was going to receive more than just immunity to the poison. Almost immediately, the stinging on her back seemed to increase ten-fold as her body began to ache in flares of burning pain. The assiduous, rippling pain spread on her backside and she nearly cowered to the ground. Her breathing became sudden and heavy as she trembled.

Feeling a deep tear, Elita slowly reached to her back and became wide-eyed after realizing that a large gash had formed—in the exact area the stinging first began. Accompanied with more ripping, Elita screamed in a mixture of horror and pain as _something_ pushed its way from under her armor and tore into freedom. It was long, appendage-like. It bended back and forth and twitched slightly. Just like…

"Slag!" Elita hissed as she studied the newly "born" thing sticking out of her back. Her glare quickly turned to the arachnid creature and she nearly gasped in disbelief.

Scanning a large sample of the creature's genetics had caused her system to begin converting to a new form, a new body. A body that would be fused with organic elements. No longer Cybertronian…

Another rip. She winced and bended over in agony. Two more rips. Elita slammed her fist into the ground and gritted—trying nothing more than to ignore it. She wanted the pain to stop. Going off-line would be a blessing compared to this. By the time Elita had realized that the growing suddenly stopped—waiting for breems in a frozen, crouching position—a total of eight of the appendages had sprouted from her backside.

Feeling her face plate flush aflame, Elita quickly brought a hand to her face. She felt a slim segment lacerating above both optics and she grasped at the area in pain. The two openings blinked—wait, blinked? Elita froze for a moment, running her hand over the openings and realized that they were no different than her optics; she saw with them as well. Something suddenly fell in front of her view—it was black, long and thin. She caught it between two digits and closely examined it. It seemed to be some sort of cilia strand. Elita pulled at it, but was slightly surprised to feel a small pain on her head. Slowly, she reached towards the troubled area and bit back a gasp. More of the protein strands were attached there. In fact, her entire head had been covered with the dark material.

Her gaze darted to the movement of the organic creature, having forgotten about it in a moment of pain, and she glowered. She stood up, glare focused on the creature and charged at it after a small breath. Elita screamed in rage as she clawed and kicked at it, with more of its fluids splattering against her. Despite feeling so weak, rage empowered her with every blow. Even after the creature finished its final struggle of hissing and stopped twitching, Elita continued with each strike until her trembling body refused to strike any longer.

She gazed at the organic creature's face. Its eyes were dark and empty.

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Elita found her body instinctively folding over—she was transforming. It didn't feel right, the way her body was compacting. It wasn't the way she had transformed before—how she was used to it feeling. The appendages that had sprouted from her back had shifted to her side, her legs folded under the casing that had formed on the lower end of her back, and her arms were encased at both sides. She felt her head being tucked away under her chest and everything went black. After a few moments passed, her vision came back in a blue tint, and she saw everything so differently. Five different angles, most likely from five eyes, greeted her optics, and she instantly felt nauseous.

Her thoughts pounded, arguing against the feelings that wanted her to do something. Her body urged her to move somewhere, anywhere. Her mind told her that she needed to rest; to ignore the strange yearning.

She felt her body take step forward, but ultimately tripped in a pathetic fall. Whipping her slender head around, she realized that this mode had three additional sets of limbs—meaning that she would have to walk with eight legs. A hiss vocalized her annoyance as she slowly rose on her wobbling legs and attempted to step forward again. She was able to keep her balance…until the fifth or six step.

_Accursed organic form_.

She hissed again. Her fangs clicked together impatiently.

_**Don't think, just follow the instinct. Stop thinking, use no reason. Just act.**_

Elita arose again and started at a slow pace, making sure the long limbs did not overlap each other again. She had successfully made it to about ten feet worth of walking when a lower grumble in her system had stopped her in her tracks. She was hungry. Hunger meant that energy was needed.

She glanced back at the dead creature; the fluids seeping from the wounds she had inflicted caught her attention. With narrowing optics, Elita's body shivered in disgust before she turned away.

_**What's stopping you? It's the only food you'll find down here.**_

She came to a halt.

_**You know it's the only way. Why go through such a transformation, if you're only going to let yourself starve? **_

She faced the organic creature again and took a small step, but quickly grimaced.

_No! It's organic—_

_**Heh. You're the one to talk.**_

_I von't! I vould rather die. _

_**Well, you're doing a fantastic job at it. Keep acting so stubborn and you will.**_

_I von't lower myself to eating such a disgusting creature!_

_**But you have no problem with being partly organic.**_

…

_**Who's going to know? You're miles below Cybertron's surface, miles below the Autobots and any organic haters. Who would be down here to see you?**_

Elita took another step forward, her gaze lingering on the creature. In a flash, she darted at it and bit down in repulsion. Squeezing her five eyes shut, she pulled a chunk of the organic's flesh off and chewed it quickly—silently regretting it. Her mind's protesting died down as the hunger caused her to take larger pieces of the creature with each bite and gulp it down in mere moments.

Her organic body shivered slightly after feeling energy returning to her; she was finished eating, and she grateful the experience was finally over. It wasn't something she planned on thinking about for a while. Slowly, she looked around. Fangs twitching and legs quivering, she felt a strange urge. The urge told her to move. Unease. That was what was directing: anxiety.

A noise. She turned. Nothing. Darkness. Something crumbled in the distance. She whipped around. A light blinded her. She hissed.

"W-Whoa! What the Pit is that?" a voice suddenly called.

She then saw them. Three of them. Mechs. Fliers. Red insignias. All Decepticons. Her abdomen flared up, she froze in an intimidating stance.

"Holy slag!" the same voice, belonging to the light blue flier yelped.

The light flashed over, and she nearly recoiled from the brightness. She hissed and tried to back away as she squinted. Her spark—she hoped it still resembled a spark—pounding beneath her chest plate. Should she run? Would they follow? Could she defend herself?

"It's an organic!" the flier on the far right responded in a surprised tone. His body was colored blue and red with a yellow cockpit.

"Shockwave's reports were right," the white and red seeker murmured, cautiously moving forward. "I would have never guessed that organic creatures live so close to us. Mere miles below our homes! Imagine what could be learned from studying them, from—"

"Uh, Starscream, sir," the blue flier interrupted and glanced towards the mentioned flier. "I think some things are better off unbothered."

A spark of realization flooded Elita as she studied the trio. They weren't regular Decepticon soldiers. Starscream, the red and white seeker, was Megatron's Second-In-Command and one of his most trusted men. Despite that Elita had never encountered him on the battle field, she had heard tales of how accomplished he was as a scientist…before Crystal City, the city where most scientists graduated from, was destroyed on Optimus' orders. Skywarp, the light blue flier, was known to be able to teleport but never put it to much use when fighting. Thudercracker, the last of the three, was equipped with a sonic-dampening effect that silenced anyone within the weapon's range. Other than that, the three could pass as brothers because of their similar looks— all having bodies that resembled one another and identical jet modes.

Starscream took a step forward, and Elita immediately stared at him, keeping him in sight. Waving a hand to Thundercracker and Skywarp, he quietly said, "We have no reason to attack it, but be wary. Should we find ourselves in that situation, try to stun it, and keep stronger attacks as a last resort."

Elita almost laughed at the Decepticon's softness, but kept silent. They would be more likely to attack if they knew she was more than a mindless organic. She then hissed with a deep screech and took a step, raising her front two legs high in the air while flashing her fangs.

"Shoo!" Skywarp cried, waving the nullray on his arm in her direction.

Elita narrowed her eyes and growled.

"Go on!" the mech said, aiming at her. A small blast fired and scorched the area right before her.

Elita almost darted away the moment the gun fired, but she held her ground. If she ran now, she would always run. The instinct wasn't going to control her actions this time. She crouched in annoyance, bending her legs down and released the pressure like springs. She threw her weight at the seeker and pinned her legs around him. The mech screamed in shock as he was caught off guard and fell to the ground, his limbs flailing. Elita clamped her longer two fangs around Skywarp's arm while the shorter ones dug under the armor to the circuitry.

"Augh! It's eating me!" the blue flier cried hysterically and tried to throw her off. Elita's eyes twitched in response as his fists whammed against her.

Suddenly, Skywarp went limp under her. She realized that something was pumping from her fangs into the flier. The venom. She could now create the very same poison that had morphed her into this hideous form, but would she still be able to scan the abilities of others as well? Could she still copy an opponent's abilities?

"Skywarp!" Starscream and Thundercracker screamed in unison, after witnessing the said Decepticon become unresponsive.

Elita glanced up and removed her fangs from the seeker's arm. A hiss emitted from her as she focused on the approaching two.

"Stay back," Elita warned in a soft tone, "if you value your comrade's life."

"It can talk!" Thundercracker said and glared at her. He then lifted the cannon attached to his arm in her direction with narrowing optics. "Get off him, you freak!"

Elita merely scoffed at the insult as she found her body unfolding and reverted to her bipedal mode. Placing a servo on her hip, she smirked at the two. A small cackle echoed from her throat as they stared at her like an anomaly.

"It's not nice to point veapons, dahling," Elita hissed as she slammed a heel on Skywarp's cockpit, just above his spark chamber and stared at Thundercracker provokingly.

"You" —Elita turned to Starscream as he spoke—"are Cybertronian?"

"And how," Elita murmured. Her glance descended to her arm and watched as a laser, the same type as Skywarp's, quickly appeared on it. It was as if it had sprouted from her very circuits. She raised her arm and aimed at Thundercracker, her lips pursed in a sneer.

"That's Skywarp's! If he's hurt," Thundercracker threatend and stepped forward, "you'll be sorry!" The flier rushed forward, but froze on spot when Starscream moved his arm to block him.

After silently exchanging glances with Thundercracker, Starscream quickly spoke, "Please. We can talk this out. There's no need for fighting."

Elita nearly arched a ridge at Starscream's action, but merely grunted and stared at him.

"We didn't mean to disturb you—"

"Vell, you obviously did."

"Yes, but we did not realize that a Cybertronian could look…possess an organic mode."

Neither had she.

"So I've heard," Elita replied dryly and glanced away with narrowing optics. "Exactly vhy are three Decepticon soldiers all the vay down here then?"

"How did you—?" Starscream slowly began, watching her more carefully with each word. And then, a sudden flicker of awareness. "Wait, are you an Autobot?" he asked with a worried tone as he quickly armed his cannon.

Elita quietly hissed, realizing that she had said too much. They obviously knew she wasn't a Decepticon, so what would keep them from suspecting her of being an Autobot or at least working with the faction? While that was true, Elita was savvy enough to keep the Decepticons from learning that.

"I don't need to be a soldier to be avare of vhat you are." Elita eyed their red Decepticon insignias. "All of Cybertron is familiar with the participators this var."

She felt a sudden stir beneath her and was immediately knocked onto her backside. Skywarp had recovered and pushed her off with ease by using his boosters.

Panic rising, Elita found herself quickly transforming again. She scrambled to her legs and quickly arose from the ground.

A blast grazed against her and she grunted, dazed. She darted away as she was hit with another shot and nearly tripped over herself.

"She's getting away!"

Skywarp appeared in front of her—from teleporting in mere moments—and Elita stopped in her tracks.

"Do you have any idea how long it's going to take to get this dent out?" Skywarp asked bitterly as he gestured to the crack on his cockpit and pouted.

Elita's legs began to wobble. She was still sore from the transformation and the new wounds weren't helping. Her body rebelled against her and froze. Her thoughts screamed to move, they were coming closer.

_**You're so tired. Why not rest?**_

_No! I can't stop! I must…_

She struggled to keep going, but no movement obeyed. She found herself sinking down against her desperation. Her optics slowly began to close.

The last thing Elita saw were their blurred forms approaching.

_Don't! Get up! It'll all be over!_

Footsteps…Voices…A touch…Darkness…

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**A/N: Gawd! D: Forgive me for not using the word "ember". It just doesn't feel right compared to spark. (I don't like the fact that G1 Elita wasn't used as SG Elita either, but I'm going to keep the Slavic accent she has, though she'll be more of a G1-esque femme to me.) Since I'm not all too familiar with the SG world either, my knowledge is very limited. I ask to not be flamed if I'm being noobish about some information. All I have to rely on is the Transformers Wiki page about characters and storyline. **

**And if you're a reader wondering when I'll update on SAINW, it'll be a little while. I promise it's not dead, but like I said on my profile, it's on a semi-hiatus.**

**Chapter 2 will be up soon. Reviews are love. :)  
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	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers in any way, shape, or form. I am a mere fan who enjoys writing fanfic.**

**Summary: Blackarachnia was destined to eventually make an appearance. Shattered Glass, AU, mixed with a small Transformers Animated plot. **

**Rating: T**

**A/N: Sorry this took so long. But, hey, as long as the chapters are lengthy, I believe it's better than smaller portions and quicker updates. (Even though my best friend/semi-beta reader tells me my chapters tend to be toooooo long.)**

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**Chapter Two: Oil in Water**

Something caused her to jolt awake.

Elita quickly opened her optics and lifted her head to find the source of the disruption; she was greeted by a set of steel bars guarding a dark cage. Elita glanced around, observing her surroundings anxiously. Across from her was a row of unoccupied cells similar to the one she was in.

Slowly, Elita-One arose—still being in her organic form—and she approached the entrance of the cell. She tapped against the bars with her foreleg and then shifted to one side of the cell to glance out. It seemed she was alone for the time being, but what concerned Elita more was her location than if she had company; grim thoughts haunted her. She could just feel the pokes and prods of scientific minds trying to examine what she was: half-organic, half-robotic.

When she heard a door creaking open and an echo of footsteps, Elita quickly retreated to the end of the cell and stood silently in the shadows.

"So as you can see, sir, we can't identify if she is with a faction." Elita immediately recognized the voice of Starscream approaching, and judging by the responses, he was at least talking to one other mech.

"I understand. Thank you, Starscream," a voice replied softly. "For now, you're dismissed."

"Yes, sir."

Elita tensed as the owner of the unfamiliar voice suddenly appeared in front of the cage. Instantly, she found herself staring at the mech with narrowing optics, until she realized who she was looking at. Grey, red, and, black, and somewhat bulky, armor, blue optics expressing a sober curiosity, the large and highly powerful cannon attached to his right arm, the bold, crimson Decepticon insignia branded on his chest plate—Elita knew too well who this particular soldier was and felt a flicker of worry. Megatron, the Decepticon leader revered by his men, was standing just feet away from her.

"Ahh, I see you've woken up," Megatron quietly murmured, staring at the shadows where Elita hid. "My apologies for not having a more…cozy area prepared, but I'm afraid we just weren't expecting to find someone living so far down in those tunnels."

Slowly, Elita looked at the tall mech hesitantly. He stood solemnly, as is waiting for a response. She watched his cannon carefully, almost expecting him to fire it at her. It took her a moment to realize that he carried no others weapons—he held a full cube of energon in his left servo.

"Vhat a gentleman," Elita replied sarcastically, glaring at the Decepticon leader venomously. "You even made sure to keep the cell closed."

"Hmm. You can speak after all," Megatron said with a small chuckle, much to her annoyance. "Please, don't misunderstand. I have no intention of keeping you as a prisoner—"

"Oh?" Elita questioned mockingly, gesturing around her.

"Your appearance has caused a slight uproar with my men, and now they believe a berserk monster"—Elita winced at the words and glanced away—"has been captured. I'm afraid the one responsible for the rumor has a tendency to _exaggerate_ some of the information he tells others. He meant no harm from it, but he was merely caught by surprise when the so called "giant organic beast" managed to subdue him. For the time being, I thought it would be best if you were given some peace and quiet."

She waited before replying, questions troubling her. There was a reason she was being kept in the Decepticon brig, Elita knew it, but the reason eluded her. Why did they bother to bring her here? Why not just leave her in the tunnels? Did they suspect her of affiliating with the Autobots? Would they discover who she really was?

"I was informed that you seemed fatigued and injured when you where brought in. Our medics, Hook and Scrapper, could examine you, if you feel comfortable with that."

Elita quickly focused her attention back on Megatron. She felt her pulse rising. Examine. The word seemed to repeat over on loop as the reality around her set it. Examine. She squirmed. No, she couldn't let that happen. She was already a pariah to them; what would stop them for taking it a step further? '_Examine_' could easily become '_experiment_.'

"No!" Her reply was quick and panicked, betraying the cool demeanor she tried to express.

Megatron did not reply at first. His gaze lingered on her; it was unreadable and it made Elita feel uncomfortable.

"Are you sure?"

Her body twitched and she glared, but Elita said nothing.

"It wouldn't be any trouble for them to—"

"No."

"If you're hurt, then you should—"

"I'm fine."

Silence.

Elita caught a glance of his face. Megatron was now frowning and wore an uncertain expression, as if calculating what his next actions should be. He knelt down suddenly. Elita followed his movements. Slowly, Megatron slid his arm through the bars of the cell and placed the cube he held on the floor.

"Very well," Megatron began after leaving the cube and withdrawing his servo from the cell. "I'll leave you to rest."

He stood up. "One of my men will be by later to check on you. Please don't hesitate to ask for any assistance," he spoke softly and stared at her momentarily before turning away. He stopped in mid-steps as if he wanted to say something, but after a short pause, Megatron continued walking.

Elita listened to the echo of his footsteps wondering further and further away. Eventually a door slammed shut and Elita relaxed somewhat; she approached the cube of energon Megatron had left behind and glanced outside the cell. Slowly, she reverted to her bipedal mode and reached down to the energon in a kneel. Her fist grasped the cube and she quickly brought it to eye level; she stirred the energon by swishing the container slightly and eyed it suspiciously. It could easily contain compounds poisonous to organics, though Elita had no idea of _what _was considered poisonous to organics. After all, why would they invest so much effort into helping a Cybertronian with an organic mode—or more specifically, one that may be an ally of the Autobots?

For a moment, Elita merely looked at the cube. Eventually, she shrugged and muttered, "Death vould be a blessing at this point."

She brought the cube to her lips and took a small sip. She waited for the toxins to kick in and end her existence, but after sitting silently for ten kliks, she scoffed. Was he truly just trying to show kindness? Such treatment seemed foreign...almost nonexistent to her.

"Pathetic Decepticon sentiment," Elita hissed. She glanced back outside the cell silently, having doubts of Megatron's intentions. Even so, she finished the rest of the "pathetic Decepticon sentiment" in mere gulps. Hunger wouldn't allow her Autobot pride to ignore it.

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It seemed Elita waited in the prisoner bay for at least two groons in silence, though she somewhat enjoyed the solitude. When she heard the door open once again, she quickly reverted to her organic form and retreated to the far end of the cell. She watched as two familiar mechs, Thundercracker and Skywarp, quickly appeared in front of the cell.

"Meal time, freak," Thundercracker murmured dryly, glaring at Elita. The femme returned the glare, but said nothing.

"TC!" Skywarp hissed and elbowed his companion slightly. "Starscream said not to cause trouble, remember?" he said quietly, looking hesitant.

"Yeah, yeah," Thundercracker muttered before sliding the energon cube he held into Elita's cell.

The femme merely turned away.

"So, is the poison instant or long-term?" Elita asked sardonically, glancing towards the cube.

"Please," Thundercracker replied in a stiff tone, "Why would I bother with the effort? Hurry up and drink it."

At first, Elita pursed a sneer and followed his glance at the energon before her. She then shifted into her bipedal form and approached the cell entrance with a coy smirk. "Do you insult all the femmes so nicely, or am I just a lucky one?"

"Don't flatter yourself," the mech hissed after his optics widened in slight embarrassment. Thundercracker grunted and began to walk away, after scowling at the femme. "Let's go, Skywarp."

"Wait! Where are you going, TC?" Skywarp called to his teammate and pursued after him.

"We've got more important things to do besides babysitting that_ thing_." Elita smiled smugly as the red and blue seeker stormed away in a rushed strut.

"Oh, come back vhen you pull your head out of your aft, dahling," she murmured and laughed.

Skywarp frowned as he glanced towards Elita—who waved at him with a small movement of the fingers—and slowly followed Thundercracker after momentarily hesitating.

Elita watched in amusement as the two retreated, crossing her arms in slouching posture. Her gaze lowered to the cube of energon and she slowly bent down to retrieve it. Quickly, she swallowed it down and tossed the empty container towards the end of the cell. Elita then leaned against the wall behind her and sighed. There was still the matter of escaping—and the Decepticon soldiers she would have to avoid even if she did manage to get out of the cell. It didn't seem that the cell was set for the bars to shock if they were approached, though Elita felt insulted that there wasn't much effort put into guarding her.

Silently, she studied the cell. It wasn't much to look at—then again, Elita had never seen a cell that any sane 'bot would consider roomy—but compared to Autobot standards, the Decepticon cell would probably be preferred due to its lack of stained walls, chains, dark atmosphere, and/or torture devices.

Elita looked to the ceiling when she noticed a vent in the far right corner of the cell. She judged it to be about twenty feet above her. She glanced through the cell entrance once more before walking directly under the vent. She tried jumping at it, hoping to grab the vent bars, but fell back down empty-handed after a few failed attempts. Elita stood up slowly, her body still sore and weak from the transformation.

When she heard a small shuffle behind her, Elita snapped her head around to see Starscream. Watching her. Staring. Quickly, she faced him and glared at the flier, crossing her arms. "Take a holoform."

"Forgive me," Starscream said while slightly gesturing. "I've come to apologize for my teammates' behavior."

Elita made a small grunt and looked away. Had he seen her try to escape?

"I couldn't care less if they have a problem vith me." Her tone was dry.

"I suppose so," Starscream replied softly. "Anyway, I wanted to see if you still refuse medical assistance. I did notice how weak you seemed in those tunnels. Our lasers were set to minimal strength...I mean no offense in asking, but are organics always so susceptible under heavy fire?"

Hmm. Typical scientists.

Elita grunted and rolled her optics.

"Perhaps the particles or radiation in the weapons cause a reaction?"

"Please. Even if that vere the case, you aren't even taking in account that organics may not even possess a similar engery matrix. Some may have frames that rely on temporal particles, others having tachyon particles," Elita replied, humoring him. She instantly regretted saying anything when she realized Starscream was watching her more closely, his expression seeming very curious.

"You seem fairly brushed up on a scientific background than a majority of Decepticon soldiers. Are you some sort of scientist?"

Elita did not immediately answer. There was a point in time, before the war, where she had studied to major in a scientific background, but when Optimus had began to gather his troops she knew it would only be a matter of time before his rule would escalate, and she immediately joined the Autobot faction. Despite abandoning her schooling, Elita still remembered bits and pieces of her lessons, though it probably paled in comparison to a true scientist like Starscream.

"Don't you have _Decepticon_ soldiers to vorry about instead of me?"

Starscream sighed.

_**Don't be so quick to shrug him away. You might be missing a good opportunity...**_

_How exactly?_

_**Play along. Agree to go to the medics.**_

_I vould rather not pretend to be in need of medical attention._

_**Pretend? Have you forgotten that you haven't fully recovered anyway?**_

…

When Elita noticed realized that the Decepticon had turned away, she quickly moved to the cell entrance. "Vait! I've changed my mind...Vill you take me to your medics?" Elita asked softly, trying to belie a sincere expression.

"R-really?" Starscream asked as he came back to the cell and reached for its lock. "I'll be glad to take you there, though I'll have to ask you to wear this stasis cuff," the flier explained as he withdrew a pair of said accessory from his subspace compartment.

Elita nodded and watched as he slowly cracked the cell open.

"Oh, I understand perfectly," Elita murmured as she swiftly extended her arm through the bars of the cell and clamped onto Starscream's arm. She yanked him towards her and swiped the stasis cuff from him and snapped it on his wrist, though she almost missed as the seeker struggled to pull his limb back. Starscream immediately gave up his resistance and fell to the ground; he was conscious, but unable to move or respond. Slowly, she pushed open the cell door and slip through the opening, walking over Starscream's limp form.

With a chuckle, Elita knelt by the flier and smirked. "So sorry, dahling."

Starscream's optics only narrowed.

"Vell, I'm a busy femme," Elita spoke coyly and stood back up. "I'll just let myself out, since you are...busy."

With no hesitance, Elita quickly headed past her cell and rushed through the hallway. As Elita came to the doorway, she froze in her tracks as the screen split apart. On the other side, in a large area filled with monitoring computers, stood a group of five or six Decepticon soldiers conversing.

"Slag," Elita hissed with a displeased scowl.

Something told her that this was going to be a long solar cycle.

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**A/N:** **Still sorry, this took like what, two weeks? My graduation was eventful. And I got betta fish recently. One male, two females. But, I think one of my girls is sick. **

**Ok, I've managed to actually read "Shattered Glass" itself, but that's about it. I'm still lacking knowledge of that which is Shattered Glass. Still asking to not be flamed for my ignorance. Please forgive me TF-fans. **

**Anyway, I've made a joint account, with said friend in the earlier part of this chapter, for crack and humor related stories. The screen name is 'BoneConjurerandIncogneeta.' Now, I won't have my individual fan fics posted up, but if you're looking for a laugh, wait for us to start posting our stupidity in writing. :3**

**Reviews are still love. I'm begging you readers for helpful feedback. I can't read minds. I don't know what you consider good and bad, or stupid, or just plain horrible. D: Help a lowly fan-fic writer out? Am I making the characters too OOC? Am I too wordy? Is my writing too confusing? Am I making simple grammar and/or spelling mistakes? It doesn't have to be a lengthy description of: Every. Single. Detail. I just appreciate feedback.**

**Oh. I also have a poll concerning this story up. Visit my profile to vote.  
**

**G'night.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers in any way, shape, or form. I am a mere fan who enjoys writing fanfic.**

**Summary: Blackarachnia was destined to eventually make an appearance. Shattered Glass, AU, mixed with a small Transformers Animated plot. **

**Rating: T**

**A/N: Not much to say, I suppose…I've been distracted a lot recently. I hope you guys don't mind.**

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**Chapter 3: Becoming the Deception in 'Decepticon'**

They had rushed into his quarters, as he was sorting files; searching desperately to answer the question that left him feeling very uneasy: Who was she? Despite his concerns, the Decepticon leader immediately turned to his attention to his comrades and listened as they explained what had caused them to act so anxious.

"So," Megatron began after shifting at his desk and glancing up to the three seekers present before him, "she…escaped."

A single nod from Starscream. Megatron stared at them curiously, before continuing on.

"And she evaded at least five soldiers stationed at the monitors?"

This time, it was Thundercracker who answered with a grunt and slight nod, while avoiding direct optic contact. The notion was tinted in shame, understandably, as seeing he was present at the time of the escape.

The Decepticon leader stifled a small sigh, but focused his attention towards Skywarp—who had remained uncharacteristically quiet. Raising an optic ridge, he motioned to the blue flier.

"I think this wouldn't have happened if Thundercracker"—Skywarp hesitantly stated, casting a soft glare towards his trine-mate—"didn't call her a…freak."

"We've discussed this, Skywarp! That thing isn't like us! She—if we are even sure of that—may be able to transform like us, but the similarities end _there_."

"Enough," Megatron quietly ordered while rising from his chair. "I understand why it would seem odd that something organic would also have characteristics of a Cybertronian, but it is important to not let hostilities control our reactions."

"I've never seen anything like this," Starscream commented, seeming more distant than usual.

Megatron turned to his second-in-command and nodded. "What do you think of it, Starscream?"

"Well, sir, concerning my doubts of her alignment, I'm still unsure of what to make of it. She seems to be very…intelligent, and her knowledge even seems to surpass that of most of our common soldiers. Regardless, I don't think we should jump to conclusions and accuse her of being an Autobot— as they've shown obvious chagrin towards anything not pure Cybertronian AND Autobotot— at least, not without concrete evidence proving otherwise."

Megatron studied the red and white flier, nodding as the seeker spoke, glancing occasionally towards Skywarp and Thundercracker. "I've searched through our records of all known Autobots as well," he added after Starscream had finished. "Nothing came close enough to call it a match."

"So," Skywarp suddenly spoke up, tilting his head slightly, "She's not an Autobot?"

"For the time being, it seems that she isn't," Megatron replied solemnly. He took a step forward, almost gazing absently past the three seekers, and made a ponderous gesture.

"This is ridiculous, sir!" Thundercracker immediately spoke with a rather skeptical tone. Crossing his arms, he watched his leader with a displeased stare. "You're being too trusting! She could be an Autobot spy, and acting so lenient would be what those Autobot scum are expecting."

"Yes," Megatron began after placing a reassuring servo on Thundercracker's shoulder. "I am glad that you are concerned, Thundercracker. It's important to voice any grievances concerning my decisions," he said while smiling sincerely to the seekers.

Thundercracker hesitated, feeling ashamed of questioning Megatron's orders, before he spoke again. "I-I didn't mean to come off so arrogantly, sir," he replied, wearing a shameful frown.

Already having turned away from the three, Megatron gave a small chuckle and nodded as the dark blue and green mech spoke, before speaking. "I'm still relatively new to this whole leadership experience, and of course I would have never expected to be so…revered when I first formed the resistance to Optimus Prime's tyranny. So many look to me for guidance, and at times I've questioned whether I am worthy enough to be trusted with their lives."

Silence.

The Deception leader glanced to the three soldiers. Thundercracker and Skywarp were frowning, and looked as if they were unsure of how to respond. Startscream, however, wore a smile while slowly shaking his head in disagreement. The light shade of his optics stared in that of Megatron's before Starscream spoke.

"Lord Megatron," Starscream stated, his tone now sounding much more serious than his usual quizzical voice, "myself included, the Decepticon faction believes in you. Your compassion and gentle nature are admirable traits for any leader, but we know that being understanding is sometimes not enough. Your ability to make those hard decisions is what gives us reason and the drive to fight on." Starscream had smiled again and watched Megatron a few moments before adding, "That is why we follow you."

Feeling a sense of pride, Megatron stared quietly at Starscream, expressing a curious look. He then smiled a sense of noble grace (something that many of the Decepticons claimed was a charming and iconic ability that few other than Megatron himself could accomplish). He took a moment to study each of the seekers— Starscream remaining stubbornly sure in his expression, Skywarp having a somewhat naive yet strong visage, and Thundercracker looking hesitant but having an overall loyalty written on his face. Without the determination of the Decepticons, Megatron knew that his influence as their leader would not have been as successful.

"I am grateful that you think so, Starscream. I hope to not disappoint your faith in me," Megatron stated sincerely. "All I ask is that you continue to have faith in those decisions," he murmured, individually casting a stare to each of the seekers.

They nodded eagerly in return.

"Now," the Decepticon leader began, moving closer to the fliers, "let's discuss our organic escapee, shall we?"

* * *

Darkness seemed to be the only comfort affordable to Elita as of her current situation. Even now, as she sat estranged in some lone storage unit, huddled in a neglected corner, she was skeptical by how easily she managed to get here. The guards had either been surprised or frightened (or, more likely both) from her sudden appearance, and made little action against her— aside from Thundercracker trying to calm the hysteria while aiming at her.

Silently, Elita One studied the area around her, being sure to keep a watch on the door. Many broken pieces of armor and weapons laid scattered amongst shelf after shelf. A soft cackle seeped out, as Elita noted how the sight strangely reminded her of her own predicament— hidden away and unimportant, and she found herself rising from the ground.

Her hands brushed over pieces of the shattered weapons, pinching at some of the visible wires. Her optics quickly darted to a rather reflective piece of armor and she immediately reached for it. She studied the unrecognizable stare moments before throwing it away from her.

"No!" Elita cried out in disgust, feeling over her face plate. Her visage had changed from it's coy, white expression to having numerous cracks and dents; even so obvious in the dark. Did she really look so horrid and disfigured? So...ugly?

Spotting a helmet wedge under some of the armor and weapons, Elita yanked it forward. She immediately fastened it on, uncaring for design or aesthetics. It was an extremely tight fit, with the protein strands taking up extra space, but Elita wouldn't dare to go back out without some means of hiding her monstrous face.

"Don't move," a deep voice hissed. Elita flinched as she felt the owner of the voice press the barrel of a gun against her backside.

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**A/N: New poll! Go vote! :D  
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**I'm so sorry that this is so short. I've just been working so much and stuff. So, how was your Christmas readers? I think that ours was pretty decent. :3**

**Oh, by the way, is anyone interested in seeing a concept sketch of SG Elita/Blackarachnia post-transformation? I'm not the best artist and it is pretty messy, but I thought it would be a nice treat to see how I've changed her look, especially since it was sketched out just prior to me writing the first chapter (it's also really noticeable that I changed her from having six spider legs to eight). Just send me a pm, and I'll send you the link. 3 Also, since there are so many Autobots and Decepticons in Transformers continuity, I was hoping that I could get some suggestions about who to write about (most likely just being one-shots or something to that extent). I feel that it would help inspire me to write Transformers fan fiction more often.**

**I will try to work on getting the next chapter soon, I really will. (Happy –Almost- New Year.) As always, let me know if there are any spelling errors, etc.  
**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers in any way, shape, or form. I am a mere fan who enjoys writing fanfic.**

**Summary: Blackarachnia was destined to eventually make an appearance. Shattered Glass, AU, mixed with a small Transformers Animated plot. **

**Rating: T**

**A/N: It's been more than half a year and I've only updated no times? Oh wow. I'm sorry. I fail.**

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**Chapter 4: Repentant Talks**

In the halls surrounding the training room, many passing Autobots noted and directly avoided their leader's session, unless they sought the anger that fueled each blow to be turned on them. The recent encounter with the Decepticon's had left its mark― the shock of a once thought dead soldier turning against them, the Ark being significantly damaged, and losing the fight―and Optimus Prime was a raging mess. The golden drones were smashed and broken one after the other. They charged; he beat them in mere kliks.

Only one remained, standing among the broken frames of its kin. Its golden form flashed and suddenly _he_ was in the room with Optimus. The Autobot leader clenched his fists and grunted furiously. The anger led him to attack with passion few even lived to witness. With each punch and smash, small pieces of gray armor chipped away from the victim, a mixture of oil and energon leaking from it.

As soon as the training room's door had slid opened, Optimus turned to see Goldbug standing silently; observing the beaten "Megatron" kneeling before the Autobot in a broken manner. Prime mercilessly kicked the drone a far distance away, feeling quite pleased after hearing a loud bang against the wall. He would make the Decepticon pay, that much he was sure of.

"Well?" Prime questioned the mech, with little patience. His tone alone seemed to carry the anger that had damaged the drone. He crossed his servos together and stood very intimidatingly.

Goldbug flinched at the sight of said drone. He knew his leader was very violent on bad streaks and being a messenger of bad news would put one at a grave risk. "Elita-One's last transmission was sent around six megacycles ago. It seems that she hasn't attempted to make further contact."

Optimus scowled, but said nothing.

"Sir?" Goldbug asked, feeling uneasy when Prime turned full attention towards him. Thoughts of Prime's last adviser haunted him.

"Play the transmission," he ordered, with a hissed drawl.

Goldbug nodded instantly and lifted his right servo. Fumbling, the gold and gray mech clicked his communication controls and refused to meet stares with his leader again.

A soft cackle hissed from the recording before playing.

"_This is Elita-One. I've discovered an unused tunnel. I have reason to believe that Shockvave is taking advantage of them of to travel underground and I am going to investigate further." _The Autobot leader raised a ridge to the unenthusiastic tone Elita's voice expressed, almost as if it was a chore to report her actions. How like her.

"As usual," Optimus began, his anger very obvious, "that femme believes she can come and go as she wishes, without my permission."

"Do you want to send someone to retrieve her?" Goldbug asked, though he did not care for Elita's actions. This wasn't the first time she was a nuisance and couldn't help but to wonder what his leader saw in her.

"No," Optimus answered quickly, "Elita doesn't seem to understand that disobedience to me has grave consequences."―Optimus lead his stare to this beaten drone―"For now, _she_ can deal with whatever she finds in those tunnels alone."

The purple tyrant quickly made his way to the drone, feeling a new vigor to torture it. He gave one last glance to Goldbug, "You are dismissed."

"Yes, sir."

"Be sure to inform the others to not answer or even acknowledge contact from Elita-One until I say otherwise. And when she returns," Optimus growled, "it seems I will have to enforce my authority."

"Yes, sir," Goldbug murmured and almost immediately retreated. He was just relieved to have all of his limbs intact.

Jazz, who had been waiting in the hallway, chuckled when Goldbug stumbled out. "That went slaggin' well."

Goldbug only glared at the mech.

* * *

Elita made no immediate reaction to the gun pressed at her, aside from a short glance behind her. As much as she strained her optics to look, Elita could not see him, or at least his visage. Though she could not see the identity of the mech behind her, she easily deduced that he was at least shorter than her, which took Megatron and the seekers off the list.

"If you're going to sneak around, you should make sure you're not being followed," the voice commented with a dry, aggressive tone. Oddly enough, it sounded...familiar.

"I suppose I got side-tracked by all this sight seeing," Elita retorted just as warmly, her expression twisting into a displeased one. Had he really followed her all this way? She knew better then to blindly run around without covering her tracks but the accursed organic instincts distracted her― it wanted her to hide, to not think clearly.

"It looks like you forgot the gift Starscream had for you in the cells," the voice replied. A sudden click on the ground by her pedos drew her attention. She glanced down to see a pair of stasis cuffs lying beside her.

"How kind of you," Elita hissed.

"Save me some trouble and just put them on. You've made quite a few soldiers scare like slaggin' protoforms."

"Oh?" Elita asked, plying a innocent tone. "I don't think I can do that!" The femme quickly whipped around and flung her left leg into the mysterious mech's side. He had been caught off guard and flew into a nearby shelf. It seemed that she had inherited more than just toxin from the organic creature and was surprised by the force from her blow. Elita cringed with a small smirk as she studied the result of her action: the shelf had collapsed and Cliffjumper was now half buried under old equipment.

_Vait...Cliffjumper?_ Elita-One found herself half shocked, half skeptical at the sight of the minibot. Originally, she along with any other Autobot, believed him to be dead. Just recently rumors spread of him surviving just to defect to the Decepticons. Even if they were true, this Cliffjumper seemed different aside from his new paint job. But, she could not take the risk of being recognized by him and instantly took action.

"Slaggin' femme," the red mech cursed and tried to free himself.

Elita shifted into her alternate mode and lunged at the minibot, her fangs sinking into his backside; his struggles quelled. Using her front two limbs, she went to work at pushing the armor and weapons off of him. It took a few kliks to complete, but he was eventually freed. Elita then saw fit to drag him away from the doorway's sight of the storage room and placing him in the darkest corner of the room, her fangs never once withdrawing from his circuits.

His expression was a mixture of fear and anger, and it only made the femme chuckle. Mechs were so easy to toy with.

"Vell, I could just leave you here, but vonce my poison vears off, I know you'll just try to find me again. Vhat can I do about that?"

"Sll...Sla...ggg off..." Cliffjumper fought to reply. Elita had supplied enough toxin to paralyze him, but not to knock him out. She would have to experiment more to learn its full effects.

Suddenly, her body seemed to move of its own accord and climbed on top of the still paralyzed minibot. Her abdomen began to weave slowly and Elita noticed the thin, rope-like material beginning to pin him in place.

"What the Pit?" Cliffjumper cried, a disgusted tone in his voice.

Silently, Elita shared the same disgust, but said nothing. The material had him bound him against the wall and restrained his movements. She moved off of his frame and paced away from him. Elita darted out the doorway, not bothering to look back at him.

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**A/N: So then, in Shattered Glass, Cliffjumper is sooooo short. No really. He only reaches Meg's legs at most. (It's actually...pretty cute.) I'd reckon that he'd be around Elita's waist compared to her height...I actually watched various videos of spiders catching prey for about twenty minutes for reference. D: By the way, I have a new poll up.  
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**Insert obligatory statement for obtaining reviews or comments concerning spelling complaints here.**


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